


A Simple Cup of Tea

by CaptainDeryn



Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic (Video Game)
Genre: (but like in a family way), First Meetings, Gen, JediDad meets Padason, Master & Padawan Relationship(s), meeting fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-13
Updated: 2020-01-13
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:28:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22235596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainDeryn/pseuds/CaptainDeryn
Summary: Idan Lumielle didn't expect to acquire a padawan when the Jedi Council calls him to an impromptu meeting. His padawan, tossed aside for "not being a good jedi", was not looking to be acquired. Facing a last chance mixed with a lack of experience, Idan is certain he has his work cut out for him, especially when his padawan has what seems like impenetrable walls up. But he's determined to chip them away, and give his new padawan the second chance he deserves.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6





	A Simple Cup of Tea

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lumielles](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lumielles/gifts), [<3](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=%26lt%3B3).



> It's about time these two got their meeting fic!! 
> 
> Idan belongs to Lumielles <3

When Idan’s datapad had given him a notification from the Jedi Council earlier that morning over breakfast, that in itself had been a surprise. The Council had never made its suspicion of him subtle, ever since he’d arrived on Tython from Korriban. 

He only paid half attention to it as he read it through the first time, propping the datapad against the dish drying rack as he washed his plate and mug. 

There wasn’t a rush this morning; he hadn’t been invited to the morning’s rounds of meetings. It was the sort of quiet day across Tython that meant he wasn’t needed, and he could enjoy the peacefulness permeating the Jedi planet—a rarity he planned to take full advantage of. 

As he scanned through the message one more time, the mug slipped out of his hands, clattering into the sink and sending soapy water flying up into Idan’s face, catching in his unruly curls. Mumbling a curse, he made a grab for the dish towel, nearly pulling a drying bowl down with it as he patted his hands dry. 

The message had been sent no more than a quarter of an hour ago. They wanted him in the Council chambers within the hour. 

In short, he was going to be late. 

It was an undignified run to Tython’s main building where the Council Chambers were housed. The courtyards were busy, older Jedi _tsk_ -ing and younger padawans shouting indignantly as he shouldered past. His apologies were lost to the wind, one hand working to pull his outer robe over his shoulder, the other clutching his datapad close to his chest lest he dropped it. 

For once he was thankful for the lanky legs that had caused him so much trouble and earned him many snarky comments from Vemora and others in her household alike. Stumbling to a halt in front of the Council chambers, amidst a clump of other Jedi waiting that gave him looks ranging from odd to patronizing, he checked his chrono and found his sprint had made him a few minutes early. Slumping against the wall in relief, he scrubbed a hand through his hair and tried to reign his breathing back under control. 

The short notice of this meeting should have rankled him, but Idan found that the less energy he expended on the poor nature of the Council, the more tolerable it became. If he got frustrated every time the Council shorted him of information, his hair would turn pure white instead of the grey it now was.

Unlocking his datapad again, he scrolled back to the top and began reading it more carefully, hoping to at least find some context to this meeting. He only made it past the greeting and the few sentences of fluff preceding the message’s actual purpose when commotion broke out around him again. 

Looking up, he saw the group of Jedi milling about split. A Master, a flustered and frustrated looking cyborg, marched through, his hand fisted in the sleeve of the padawan trailing behind him. 

Trailing was perhaps too kind a word; the padawan may as well have been a rowdy, wild akk dog being dragged by the collar. With a harsh twist, the padawan yanked himself away, planting his feet in the middle of the floor like he’d grown roots through the soles of his boots. 

His Master, Idan could not for the life of him remember the man’s name, only that he had been one of the Knights quickly promoted to train padawans as the war dragged on, whipped around with a frustrated growl, “Come _on._ Do not cause a scene.” 

“Not until you tell me why you pulled me out of training!” The padawan turned his head back and forth slowly, as if searching for something, before stopping at the spot where his master was. 

A second look—then a third—and Idan noticed the strip of dull brown cloth, the sort of rough material the Knights’ robes were made of, tied around the boy’s eyes. His dark hair was wild from his scuffling, his training robes crooked. He couldn’t have been older than sixteen. 

With a long-suffering sigh, his Master scowled. “The Council called us here. I had to send them your instructors’ less than satisfactory reports _again_.” 

It was a barbed remark and Idan’s heart ached as the boy’s face fell for a beat. Then the padawan’s expression twisted and he spat, “So you’re finally going to kick me out?” 

“It’d be about—“the Master bit his tongue halfway through his sentence, looking up around the other Jedi who were all staring. His face was beginning to turn an interesting shade of red, creeping up his neck and ears, “Terrance get _over_ here.” 

“Try not to gloat so obviously.” The padawan, Terrance, snapped as he took a step back, disregarding the tittering that started up around him. The sharp look Idan sent towards the offending party was blatantly overlooked. The padawan continued backing away from his Master, a sneer twisting his lips, “You’re going to be glad to get rid of me. You don’t even near to stand near me, I can find my way to—”

He broke off in a yelp as he slammed into one of the bystanders, tripping and falling backwards onto his bottom. For a moment he looked stunned, a flush—either one of anger or embarrassment—creeping into his cheeks. 

Idan rocked his weight forward into a step to help the poor child, but the Council door hissed open behind him, a summons halting him in his tracks, “Master Lumielle, please step inside.” 

As he turned into the chamber, he heard the dull smack of a hand hitting something behind him and the young boy’s voice rising, “I don’t _need_ —!” before the door hissed closed behind him once again. It sealed them in a muffled silence compared to the din outside. 

In the bright Council Chambers, with sunlight streaming in from the skylights above making the golden walls gleam, he should have felt welcomed. But standing in the center, with the Jedi Council staring down around him from their half-circle of chairs, he could never help but feel judged.

Satele smiled at him, though it was strained. Her eyes kept darting to the door. Though it was closed and muffled any sounds from the outside, the cacophony of emotions still fizzled through the Force. “Our apologies for the late warning, Master Lumielle.” 

He wasn’t so certain how much sincerity rang true in that apology, but he gave a slight nod anyway. “It’s quite alright, Master Shan. I’m afraid I didn’t get to read thoroughly through your message, the excitement outside interrupted me.” 

“It’s no trouble.” Satele’s tone most certainly suggested that it was in fact trouble, though whether it was Idan’s trouble or a different kind, he wasn’t sure. “You see, the Council made a last minute, unanimous decision.” 

From the way some of the other Jedi’s expressions twitched, they were having great fun with that decision. Suspicion rose like a grey cloud in Idan’s mind. 

“We are granting you a padawan.” Satele’s words dropped like a cinder block between the Council and Idan. 

In fact, a weight seemed to fall across the room like a blanket, something heavy and loaded.

He couldn’t seem to find the words that he wanted. There was hardly any way that he could be qualified to train anyone, let alone one of the young, impressionable minds of the Jedi. But he couldn’t simply deny the will of the Council. They stared at him expectantly, eyes boring into him, practically daring him to say no. 

Under their expectant looks, he cleared his throat and said, “That is...such an honor. I don’t know where to begin. Who, may I ask, is my padawan?” 

The doors to the Council chambers banged open, and Satele sighed, long and deep. “Ah... _Terrance_. How good of you to make a good first impression.” 

The padawan that Idan had been watching earlier was practically being frog marched in by his Master. The red hue in the Master’s face had turned slightly purple, making his cybernetics stand out brilliantly. Had Terrance not suddenly tore himself away with a strong jolt of anger in the Force, Idan was convinced he would’ve gone limp and boneless rather than move another step. 

“So, you’ve finally decided then? You’re going to kick me out?” Terrance’s fingers sliced vicious air quotes in the air, “Did it finally occur to you that I’m not a “good enough” Jedi?” 

Several of Idan’s peers began opening their mouths with harsh retorts, but Satele waved them away. “Padawan, we’re reassigning you to a new Master.” 

“You’re _what_? To _who_?” Terrance pivoted in either direction, casting around at the people in the chamber with him. There was a hint of...something like fear in his voice layered beneath his indignance. 

Satele gestured towards Idan, a rather useless gesture when addressing the miraluka. “Master Lumielle will be taking over your training.” 

Terrance zeroed in on Idan, his face twisting, “ _No_. No, you’re better off just casting me out.” 

Perhaps Idan would have been offended if his own thoughts hadn’t jumped down a similar path. Why the Council was entrusting a fiery, hurting padawan to Idan when he didn’t even trust himself was far beyond his capability of understanding.

Unless… 

“You don’t have a choice. This is your last chance, padawan.” Satele sounded weary. “Do not throw this away.” 

“Yes but…” the last of her words finally caught up with the padawan and he paused, voice going small, “my last chance?” 

Satele nodded, folding her hands in her lap without offering any more explanation, “Please do not waste this.”

Pairing a troubled padawan on his last chance with an inexperienced master was almost a guaranteed set up for failure. A chill went down Idan’s spine. 

Though Satele’s expression was serene, her companions were far less subtle with their thoughts. Failure was exactly what they wanted. 

Well, if that’s what they wanted than Idan very well _couldn’t_ give it to them. Though he had only known Terrance a matter of minutes, he was determined to give him a better chance than his previous master had clearly given him. 

Offering a little half bow, Idan murmured, “Thank you for entrusting me with his training. I’ll do my best.” 

Then, he turned to face Terrance, walking over to him. Though, when he was close, he found himself uncertain how to let Terrance know that he was right in front of him. He almost reached out a hand to touch his shoulder, then thought better of it, instead clearing his throat. 

Terrance refused to look at him, keeping his attention on the wall opposite him. He was working on the inside of his cheek, almost like he was trying not to hide the boiling pot of emotions going through him. Though Idan wasn’t actively digging through his presence, hurt, indignance, and frustration all bled from Terrance like an open wound. 

“Come on,” Idan murmured, “I’ll show you to our ship. I suppose _we’ll_ be flying out in the morning.” 

“Fine.” Terrance lifted his chin to face the Council, offering a similar little bow, though it was stiff. Idan got the impression that a foul gesture was going through Terrance’s mind and that he was trying to telepathically show the Council exactly what he thought of them. 

When they offered no more commentary, a silent dismissal, Idan turned on his heel and this time with a light touch on Terrance’s arm, guided him out of the Council chamber. 

The door hissed closed behind them and Terrance immediately pulled away from Idan, hunching his shoulders and crossing his arms over his chest. Despite the crowd earlier, the space was quiet now. No one had cared enough to see the end result of the explosive meeting. It was a small blessing; the last thing Terrance would’ve needed was to face judgement inside and out of the Council chambers. 

“Do you need to go gather your things?” Idan asked, looking at Terrance as the padawan marched to the railing, planting his elbows on it with his back to Idan. Terrance ran his hands through his hair, turning his cheek over his shoulder with a nod. 

Having his entire world overturned in a matter of minutes...Idan could understand the feeling.

“Do you want me to go with you?” Idan watched Terrance’s expression shift, knowing the answer before it came. 

“ _No_.” 

Idan wouldn’t have wanted his new master to follow him out to the padawan dorms either. “Alright, well then I’ll meet you in hangar Bravo Six?” 

“Okay.” Terrance’s voice was flat and without another word, he turned and marched down the stairs. Idan watched him go, breathing out a long sigh and scrubbing his hand through his hair. 

What was he getting into? How was _he_ going to manage this?

The walk back to the Reliant gave him time to think, though there wasn’t much thinking at all that he got done. Oh, there were many thoughts buzzing around in his head, mostly consisting of speculations, worry, and concern as to what exactly he was supposed to do. 

For the first time in a while the fatherly instincts that had started in him with Brevom and Aramys were stirring from their sleep, already reaching to protect and find the wayward padawan he had been given. The padawan that didn’t seem to want anything to do with him, or anyone for that matter. 

Lost at what to do as he finally boarded the Reliant, leaving the ramp down for Terrance, Idan started building the bridge that had crossed so many hard conversations and grumpy days: tea. 

\--

Terrance had impeccable timing for someone who had never been to this ship before and who was probably dragging their feet to get there. Idan was just putting the infusers in to steep the tea leaves when he heard uncertain footfalls. 

“Terrance, is that you?” 

He heard a thump, a loud thump, and a not-so-muffled curse in response. Hoping he wasn’t about to walk out and find his padawan with a broken or sprained anything from falling down the ramp, Idan crept out. 

Though there was a rucksack now lumped on the floor, and Terrance was hunched over the couch, presumably where he had run into it, he seemed alright. Idan made a mental note to give Terrance a detailed ship tour later, if he would be amenable to it. 

When Terrance sensed Idan he straightened up with a grumbling, “ _Yes,_ it’s me, who the hell else would it be?” 

“A fellow Jedi looking for me? A brutal intruder?” Idan offered, chuckling when Terrance scoffed and hefted his bag back onto his shoulders. “Do you want me to show you to your quarters?” 

Terrance nodded, and as Idan turned to move into the ship, he felt Terrance take a gentle hold of the back of his robes with his fingertips. Not wanting to break whatever show of vulnerability that was, Idan didn’t even pause in a step. Through the Force, he felt the slightest hints of relief whisper by him. 

As soon as Idan led him into the quarters, Terrance dropped his rucksack and plopped down on the edge of the bed with a sigh, running his hands repeatedly over the blanket beneath him like he was feeling out the texture and simple embroidered pattern. 

Slipping back out, Idan went to the galley kitchen, grabbing the two steaming mugs of tea that he had let steep. Though he didn’t have high hopes for breaking through with Terrance after today’s events, he had to at least try. 

“I brought some tea.” Idan announced as he came back into the room. His padawan hadn’t moved, though his head jerked up at Idan’s voice. 

“Why would you bring _tea_?” Terrance’s lip curled, head turning to the sound of the cup thunking down as Idan placed it next to him. For a moment Idan thought that he was going to swing at the cup and send it flying across the room. 

No matter if he did, these mugs were the ones he didn’t mind sliding around and breaking on the ship. Though it would be a waste of perfectly fine tea.

“It’s a Tatooine herbal blend.” Idan offered calmly, settling in the bolted down chair in the corner of the room. He took a long sip of tea. “I find it helps settle the mind after a long day.” 

He looked around the room, at the barren walls, the clinical cleanliness of the room, and at the rucksack Terrance had let fall by the door. It would be nice for this room to be used. “I also came to see if you wanted help unpacking.” 

“I don’t need your help unpacking.” Terrance, still sitting on the bed, made no move towards his rucksack, though he did ‘look’ around the room. “I can find everything just fine.” 

Idan lifted his shoulders in a shrug, settling deeper back in the chair. He really should get some cushions for it—it was rather uncomfortable, and unsightly. “Suit yourself. If you don’t mind, then I will finish my tea here.” 

“What, so you can see if I drink mine?” Terrance asked testily, though he made no move towards the mug. His nose scrunched when Idan scoffed. 

“That would be ridiculous. I simply cannot be bothered to get up out of this chair.” 

Unless it was a trick of his eyes and optimism, Idan swore he saw Terrance’s lips begin to quirk up. But a sour expression slammed back down across his features, bringing with it a new set of acidic questions, 

“Why is your accent like that?” 

While he had braced himself for some sharp comments, Terrance’s question, albeit snarky, took him by surprise. “Pardon me?” 

Terrance snickered, waving his hand as if that someone clarified things. “ _That._ You’re a Jedi, I’ve never heard a Jedi speak like that.” 

“Well,” Feeding Terrance information felt a bit like putting starship fuel in a fire, but Idan couldn’t deny that he was glad to just have his padawan speaking to him, “I’m not from the Republic.” 

Eyebrows drawing together, Terrance seemed genuinely interested for a moment, “I thought all Jedi were from the Republic and all sith were from the Empire?” 

Already Idan was shaking his head, casting about for a way to direct the interest elsewhere. His past was not how he wanted to break the ice with Terrance, even if it might ice over their interactions again, “Not necessarily—Jedi can come from all over.” 

“I was from Alderaan.” Terrance mumbled, chin turning down, “But I haven’t been there since.” 

“I’ve heard it's a very beautiful planet.” As soon as the words left his mouth, Idan watched Terrance’s face fall. Wincing, he watched the walls come rising back up between them. 

“Yeah, so have I. Wish I could see it.” Terrance spat. He flipped tone and conversation on a dime. Back to square one it seemed. “The other padawans talk about you, you know?” 

“Oh?” Idan hummed in kind, if faux, interest. He knew an attempt to drive someone out of the room when he saw it. Unfortunately for his padawan, it wasn’t going to work so long as he kept up the attitude. “Are they saying anything interesting?”

His lack of response only seemed to incense Terrance, deepening his scowl. 

“Yeah, they say your weird and eccentric and—“Though his tone was cruel, Terrance petered out. 

“Oh, you simply must keep going, you’ve got me so interested.” If he could, Idan imagined Terrance was glaring daggers at him. But there was more behind his words than Idan simply being the eccentric Jedi Master. 

“I’m already a laughingstock,” Terrance growled. “And now I’m stuck with _you_. And you probably don’t even want me here!” 

Tilting his head, Idan pressed back a sigh. He wanted to know what had hurt his new padawan. It wasn’t menace behind his hostile words, Idan had known enough ill-tempered Sith to know that. He was copping the same attitude that Aramys would in her worst pre-teen moods, when in typical fits of teen angst, she would throw out the words she thought would hurt the most. 

Thinking of Aramys and seeing the angry young boy in front of him sent an ache though his heart and he tried to push it away. 

More than that, Terrance was already so jaded and angry. The Jedi had failed him horribly, left scar upon scar on his young mind, and Idan found that if he looked for too long, he saw his younger self staring back at him. 

“I felt that,” Some of the anger had left his voice, replaced with something shakier, “You’re disappointed. You _don’t_ want me here.” 

It was wrong, but a clever observation. Idan was willing to bet that Terrance was far more attuned to people and the world around him than he was ever given credit for. 

He shrugged, sticking his nose in his cup and taking a long draw of tea. “You’re right. I didn’t. I didn’t think I should be anyone’s mentor. But,” he paused, deeply considering what to say. As the silence dragged, Terrance began slowly drawing his head from side to side in the same way he had searched for his Master on Tython, and Idan felt his presence reach out tentatively towards his. “But, now that you’re here, I don’t mind the company.” 

Standing, Idan added, “Please let me know if you need help finding anything. Just yell out, the ship’s not that big.” 

He had pushed his luck enough for today. Burning the tentative bridge, he was trying to build with Terrance wouldn’t help either of them in the long term. There was no response, but that was okay. There would always be another chance tomorrow to break through to him.

After all, later that evening, Idan found the mug he had given Terrance washed and placed neatly on the drying rack. Perhaps a mug could be an olive branch. 


End file.
